


milestones

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: “This isn’t a good idea,” Geralt said. It was almost comical: a man feared by most was terrified at the prospect of meeting his partner’s parents.Jaskier touched his arm. “I said you didn’t have to come with me,” he reminded him gently. He had gotten the letter about his mother’s health just days earlier, and he had told Geralt not soon after that he needed to go back home and see her. Geralt had insisted on traveling with him, always the protector.“Don’t be stupid,” he said gruffly. “I wasn’t letting you travel so far on your own.”Jaskier nosed at his jaw, “My parents are going to think you’re the best thing ever. Stop worrying.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 446





	milestones

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: queermight / tumblr: korrmin

“This isn’t a good idea,” Geralt said. It was almost comical: a man feared by most was terrified at the prospect of meeting his partner’s parents. 

Jaskier touched his arm. “I said you didn’t have to come with me,” he reminded him gently. He had gotten the letter about his mother’s health just days earlier, and he had told Geralt not soon after that he needed to go back home and see her. Geralt had insisted on traveling with him, always the protector.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said gruffly. “I wasn’t letting you travel so far on your own.”

Jaskier nosed at his jaw, “My parents are going to think you’re the best thing ever. Stop worrying.”

“Hmm,” he grunted, obviously not convinced, and leaned down to peck him on the lips, soft and sweet. Jaskier would never get tired of that, of being able to kiss him freely. “Okay,” he breathed, pulling back and squaring his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight. “Go ahead.”

Jaskier turned to the door and knocked, once. He intended to knock again but the door opened before he could, and he saw his mother in all her glory, an apron tied around her waist and smiling brightly. She was sick and yet she looked as healthy and beautiful as ever. Jaskier’s heart squeezed, feeling guilty for not visiting enough.

“Julian!” she exclaimed, lurching forward to throw her arms around him. She was much shorter, and Jaskier rested his chin on the top of her head, hugging her back.

“Hey,” he said, pulling back. He really had missed her, and her surprisingly bearish hugs. “I, uh - sorry I didn’t warn you, but I brought company.” He nodded at Geralt, who was standing off to the side, stiff as a board. He startled, just barely, when Jaskier’s mother turned to him, eyeing him.

Finally, she nodded, “Hello,” she extended a hand. “I’m Julian’s mother.” She cut her eyes at Jaskier, an amused quirk to her lips. He blushed, and Geralt noticed, surprised because Jaskier rarely blushed at anything. She turned her attention back to Geralt, “And you are?”

“I’m - uh - I’m Jaski - I’m Julian’s partner,” he stammered, and Jaskier choked back a laugh.

But he also took pity on his lover, sidestepping and nuzzling under his arm. “Geralt,” he said for him, and Geralt cringed, like he’d forgotten the most important answer on a test, and stuck his hand out. His mother just accepted his hand, shaking it.

“Your father hasn’t returned yet,” she said. “But I’ve prepared a feast for the occasion.”

Jaskier reached down and took Geralt’s hand, squeezing, as they followed his mother. “Should you really be cooking?” he asked as she led them to the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, she ushered them into seats. She hadn’t been lying; there _was_ a feast. Jaskier noticed Geralt’s drooling mouth and laughed silently. His mother had many talents and cooking was undeniably one of them.

“Oh, Julian,” she said, joining them.

He glanced over at her, and noted she looked oddly guilty, fidgeting with one of the serving spoons. Not what he’d been expecting, but he couldn’t predict how he would act or feel in her situation, so he didn’t say anything.

“I’m not sick,” she blurted, and Jaskier blinked, “ _What?”_

She looked down, and for the first time he really _saw_ her; she had gotten so much older, her hair was gray and there were new wrinkles around her mouth and her eyes. His stomach lurched. Maybe he should’ve been angry, but he wasn’t.

“We missed you, baby,” she said. “You never visit, not even when we write letters.”

Geralt stared at Jaskier expectantly, obviously waiting. He reached over and grabbed his mother’s hand, and then he grabbed Geralt’s hand, holding them both. His mother smiled sadly at him, and he smiled back. “We should wait for father,” he said, “and then we can chow down like dogs - what do you say?”

“I would like that,” she replied, brightening a bit.

Jaskier turned to Geralt, “And you?”

“What do you think?” he replied, arching an eyebrow. “I would kill for food this good.”

His mother’s laughter filled the room, light and airy, as she reached over to pat Geralt’s arm. “I like this one, Julian,” she said brightly, and Jaskier joined her in laughing at Geralt’s expression, a mix of pride and embarrassment.

*

Jaskier’s father was a different story. He wasn’t a bad father, Jaskier would say, but he was also nothing like his mother. He returned not long after and entered the kitchen, halfway through saying something, “I found - ”

He paused when he saw Jaskier, “It’s been a while.”

Jaskier smiled, only half-forced. Geralt’s thumb brushed the back of his hand, a silent comfort. Gods, he loved him. “Here I am,” he said as his mother stood up and kissed his father on the cheek.

He sat down, taking the only other vacant chair. Jaskier wondered briefly if they had other chairs for when his brothers visited. He found himself kind of missing them, too, even if they had tormented the crap out of him when they were kids.

“Smells amazing,” he said to his wife but then his eyes flickered over to the stranger in the room. He frowned, and Jaskier’s stomach lurched uncomfortably. “I didn’t know we were inviting anyone else,” he said, not harsh but far from kind. It was a talent, and reminded him vaguely of Geralt.

Jaskier had never fit his father’s mold of a man, that much was obvious, but he had always supported him and Jaskier had never asked for too much. He never missed out, considering his mother had always coddled and praised him.

But in that moment he almost felt like he didn’t know the man sitting across from him. It’d been _years,_ and while his parents knew he wasn’t straight - he had told them early on - they also had never actually _met_ one of his boyfriends.

Jaskier had stuck pointedly to girlfriends growing up, and he assumed that had been a part of it. When he had left, he had jumped on the first guy he met (some burly fellow at a tavern) as if rebelling.

Geralt squeezed his hand, “I’m his partner, sir,” and Jaskier literally let out a gasp before _what the fuck?_ “Geralt.”

Jaskier watched, at a loss for words, as his father and Geralt stared each other down. He felt like he was dreaming. He finally glanced his mother - for help, maybe - but she just shrugged, looking _way_ too amused. _This_ had definitely not occurred when he’d brought home any of his girlfriends as a kid. There was a tension in the air that only dispersed when Jaskier’s father nodded curtly.

“Very well,” he said. “You better treat my son well,” he added after a beat, and Jaskier was mortified.

Geralt - the traitor - just nodded, squaring his shoulders. “I will,” he said, and Jaskier felt all warm and gooey even if he still thought Geralt was a big traitor for entertaining _any of this._ Jaskier squeezed his hand, and Geralt looked over at him with an uncharacteristically bright smile and he smiled back, unable to help himself.

*

Jaskier opened his eyes later that night and rolled over, frowning when he noticed Geralt was nowhere to be seen. It was still dark, the moon bright through the window. For a moment he just waited, assuming Geralt would return soon from relieving himself or getting some water, but he didn’t. Still frowning, he crawled out of bed and left in search of him.

He wouldn’t be too worried, normally, but he was in unfamiliar territory, okay?

Jaskier walked down the wall, checking each room. He was just about to reach the kitchen when he heard his mother saying, “Thank you.”

He paused before slowly inching forward, listening closely.

“For what?”

_That_ was undeniably Geralt, voice as deep and rough as ever. Jaskier inched even closer, peeking around the corner. Geralt stood, leaning against the counter, while his mother sat in one of the chairs. She looked up and Jaskier could just barely see her face, soft but pinched, “For taking care of Julian. I was… I was so worried when he left. I knew he was talented - I never doubted he’d do well on his own - but the world is dangerous, and I worried for him. He’s not very strong, as I’m sure you know.”

Geralt snorted, “Yeah, I know.”

Jaskier smiled to himself, biting his bottom lip. His mother laughed softly, “I’m just happy he found a person that he loves, and who can protect him.” She stood up and approached Geralt. Next to him, she was outright tiny. “So, thank you,” she repeated, taking his hands. “And please, no matter what happens, take care of him.”

Geralt smiled down at her, and Jaskier’s heart squeezed in his chest. “I will,” he said. “I won’t ever let anything happen to him. I swear.”

“I know,” she said, squeezing his hands. “Well, it’s about time this old lady goes back to sleep.” She released his hands. “Sleep well, dear.”

Jaskier barely ducked out of the way before she saw him. Once she was out of sight, and he had heard the familiar creak of a door closing, he walked into the kitchen. Geralt looked up and smiled knowingly. “I could _smell_ you.”

Jaskier walked over and pressed up against him, their bodies slotting together perfectly, “What am I supposed to do?” he asked with a grin. “What was that you said?” he continued, nosing at his jaw with a breathy sigh. “I smell like…”

“Oak and honey,” he finished for him, smiling.

Jaskier pulled back and pecked him on the lips, “Was it as bad as you thought?” he asked. “Meeting my parents and stuff.”

Geralt slipped his arms around Jaskier’s waist, tugging him closer. He sighed, pressing their foreheads together. “I’m glad,” he said before continuing, a bit slow, “that you have a family that cares about you and wants the best for you.” He rubbed Jaskier’s back, looking almost solemn, “Not everything has that.”

“Hey,” Jaskier said softly. “ _I’m_ your family, and Cirilla, and even - Gods forbid - Yennefer.” He rubbed their noses together. “I can’t speak for them, but I _can_ speak for myself and say that you will _always_ have me, Geralt. Even if - Gods, even if we decided we no longer wanted to be together - ”

Geralt growled, low in his throat, “We won’t.”

Jaskier smiled, biting the inside of his cheek, “Okay, but even if we did, I would still be your friend. I would always be on your side, and _by_ your side.” He kissed him again, never wanting to stop. “Do you believe me?” he asked once they had separated, cupping his face between his hands.

“Mmm,” Geralt hummed, “I do.”

Jaskier grinned and grabbed his hand, tugging insistently. “And if you follow me back to our room, I’ll prove to you _just_ how much I love you,” he said with a wink. Geralt barked out a laugh as Jaskier pulled him out of the kitchen.


End file.
